


Paper Faces on Parade

by averita



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averita/pseuds/averita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm a woman who gets what I want."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Faces on Parade

Ava is small, and Harvey thinks she probably uses that to her advantage, the same way she uses her skirts and heels and pink lipstick. When she touches him her fingers are light, bird-like. It makes him laugh.

“You think I’m going to fall for that?” he asks her. She smiles, a wide, sharp smile, and if they were on a bed she’d probably be straddling him right now. He likes that thought, saves it for later, for when they’re not standing in her office and her nails aren’t suddenly biting into his shoulder. 

She kisses almost violently, fingers moving to tighten in his hair. His back is to the wall and she presses him against it, reaching behind her with one hand to tug at her zipper. Her dress crumples at her feet and she steps out of it, kicks it away with one heel. 

He moves back just enough to kiss her jawline, thumb stroking along her collarbone. He’s wanted to do that for awhile, though in a distant way, a half-formed desire that he didn’t pay much attention to until she pressed a drink into his hand and the setting sun cast it into sharp relief. Her eyes were dark, and maybe that was the sun as well.

She makes a sound in the back of her throat, a low, breathless sound, when he runs his hands up her sides. His jacket is long gone and his shirt undone; she makes quick work of his pants as well, and when she reaches inside, her fingers are anything but delicate. 

“Do you think I did it?” she asks again as she strokes him. Her voice is huskier than usual, and there’s a teasing note in it that sounds more dangerous than amused. She leans in again without letting him answer, catching his bottom lip between her teeth before kissing him deeply. He moves his hands back down to her hips and groans, squeezing more tightly than he means to when she swipes her thumb over the tip of him. 

He flips them, hiking her leg up around his hip, pressing her firmly between him and the wall when she gasps in surprise. “Why does it matter?” he replies, but now it’s his hand between them and he’s circling her clit, and the only answer she gives is a long, shuddering breath. 

Her panties are wet and easily shoved aside. She makes a low noise like a growl when he enters her, one hand high on his back and the other fisted in his hair. Her own is loose around her shoulders, thick and dark and sweet-smelling. 

He curses when she bites down on his shoulder, and thrusts harder into her, so that the sound that escapes her is a little higher, more raw-sounding. The heel that had been digging into his thigh falls and hits the wooden floor with a soft sound, but the other one is still steady. When he looks down he can see her calf flexing as she first meets his pace and then sets her own, and it makes him twitch, deep inside her. 

He moves his thumb over her in slow, steady motions until she shoves his hand aside and replaces it with her own. She inhales sharply as she touches herself, faster and more roughly than he had, and he almost loses his rhythm as he watches her. Her grip on his hair is almost painful, now, and her leg tight around his waist. She cries out, a rough wordless sound, and her head slams back into the wall as she comes. 

The feel of her clenching around him is almost enough to finish him. When she opens her eyes they're glazed and a little dreamy. She keeps moving through the aftershocks, lazy rolls of her hips that make him groan and her bite her lip; when his breath finally catches and he spills inside her, she's nearly liquid in his arms, lazy and satisfied. 

It takes him a minute to slow his breathing. She hums as he slips free of her, lowering her leg with a wince and kicking off the heel she's been wearing the whole time. She's even smaller now - it would be so easy to underestimate her, but there's a satisfied gleam in her eye and he thinks back to what she said earlier. _I'm a woman who gets what I want._

She shrugs back into her dress, running her fingers through her hair and reaching for her long-forgotten drink as he buttons his shirt. The light is dim and he can't quite read her expression as she walks over to her desk and sits down, facing him.

"It matters," she says, and her voice is soft like velvet, "because you won't answer the question."


End file.
